An Amish woman targeted by a serial killer

is the only living witness…

As the sole woman to escape the Dead of Night Killer, Catherine Fisher’s the key to catching him—if he doesn’t kill her first. Now it’s up to FBI agent Sutter Brenneman to protect her. But with her memory missing and all clues indicating the serial killer took her for very personal reasons, it’ll take everything Sutter has to keep her safe.

MARY ALFORD was inspired to become a writer after reading romantic suspense greats Victoria Holt and Phyllis A. Whitney. Soon, creating characters and throwing them into dangerous situations that tested their faith came naturally for Mary. In 2012 Mary entered the speed-dating contest hosted by Love Inspired Suspense and later received “the call.” Writing for Love Inspired Suspense has been a dream come true for Mary.

Also By Mary Alford

Forgotten Past

Rocky Mountain Pursuit

Deadly Memories

Framed for Murder

Standoff at Midnight Mountain

Grave Peril

Amish Country Kidnapping

Amish Country Murder

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Amish Country Murder

Mary Alford

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-0-008-90638-2

AMISH COUNTRY MURDER

© 2020 Mary Eason

Published in Great Britain 2020

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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“Stop right there!”

Sutter! Relief swept through Catherine’s limbs. He would save her. But the killer jerked toward the sound and fired off several rounds.

Catherine scrambled to her feet and charged. She hit his midsection. They stumbled backward. His hand snaked around her throat.

“Drop the weapon!” Sutter yelled.

Her attacker swung her around in front of him like a shield. He shoved the gun against her temple.

“Take it easy,” Sutter urged. “Drop the weapon and let her go.”

Instead, the man lifted Catherine up high and tossed her. She hit the ground hard, landing on her wrist.

The man had the gun pointed at her again.

She started crawling toward Sutter. If she could just reach him…

Gunshots drowned out her labored breathing. Catherine ducked low and covered her head with her hands, certain she would be dead soon. But someone dove toward her.

Sutter.

He tucked her beneath his body and returned the killer’s fire, the noise deafening as bullets landed all around.

Dear Reader,

Even through the darkest moments of our lives, the one constant we can count on is God’s love.

One of the best parts of writing suspense is being able to create good to triumphant over the darkness. I love showing God’s grace and love on the pages of my stories through the eyes of the main characters. In Amish Country Murder, even as FBI Profiler Sutter Brenneman and Catherine Fisher journey though the valley of the shadow of death to face down a serial killer, hope exists. Just as it does in real life. No matter where our journey takes us, God is already there waiting to help us through.

I hope you’ve enjoyed my second Amish Suspense. And I love hearing from readers anytime. You can connect with me by visiting my website, www.maryalford.net, or you can find me on Facebook and Twitter.

Blessings always,

Mary Alford

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.

—Psalm 23:4

For my brother, Leon, who passed away May 4, 2019. Leon was a minister, a chaplain for the Texas State Guard, a constable and a man of God who touched so many lives. Mine especially.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Introduction

Dear Reader

Bible Verse

Dedication

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

About the Publisher

ONE

Her memory before waking up in the basement the night before was blank. Her head ached. Vision blurred. Dried blood caked the makeshift bandage secured around her head. She was completely at her kidnapper’s mercy. And he had none.

Thinking clearly with her heart threatening to explode from her chest was nearly impossible, but she had to try.

Her hands were zip-tied in front of her body. Beneath her, the cold of the cement floor seeped deep into her limbs. She was tethered to a support beam by a rope around her ankle.

He’d blindfolded her, but she’d pulled it free the second he was gone. She’d been in and out of consciousness most of the day, her body broken from the things he’d put her through.

The room was dark now. A twelve-by-twelve-inch window displayed the blackness of the night outside.

Through the drilling pain in her head, a niggling of something far more terrifying was just out of her reach. A nightmare waiting to be revealed. Last night, when she’d awakened to find the monster standing over her, she thought she’d heard another woman scream. Her stomach clenched. She prayed it was but a hallucination.

“Is anyone there?” Her frightened voice echoed through the basement and received no answer.

As hard as she tried, she couldn’t remember anything from her past beyond waking up in this basement to him. Not how she’d come to be here, or what she’d been doing before he took her. Nothing. Yet one thing was clear. Without help, she would not walk out of this basement alive.

Outside, a car slowed. The garage door chugged up and fear spiraled throughout her body. He was home.

Somewhere in the house, a door opened. Closed. Her heart pumped fear-induced adrenaline through her body as footsteps approached upstairs.

Light crept in from above and terror filled her to capacity. She closed her eyes and clamped down on her bottom lip to hold back a scream. The hurt he’d inflicted on her the night before had threatened to break her. He’d enjoyed every bit of her pain. She wouldn’t give him the pleasure of hearing her scream again.

The steps leading to her torture chamber creaked. Each sound grated along her frayed nerves. She willed this to be a nightmare she would wake up from any minute.

His loud breathing filled the room. Vague memories of a safer place crept in. Real? Imagined? She wasn’t sure, but she needed to believe it existed, because going there had helped her reclaim her name earlier. Catherine. She was Catherine.

The shrill sound of a phone ringing came from upstairs. He snorted in anger, furious to have the fun postponed. She could feel his gaze boring into her.

He never spoke. Not once since she’d woken last night to him standing over her had he said a single word to her.

With a growl, he forced the blindfold back over her eyes. But not before she’d caught a glimpse of him. He was dressed in dark clothing, a ski mask covering his face. His eyes were dark and disturbing—filled with evil. They would haunt her forever.

He trudged up the steps and slammed the door hard. Catherine listened carefully, almost certain he hadn’t locked it behind him.

This was her chance. If she wanted to live, she had to break free of her restraints and escape before he returned.

Catherine jerked the blindfold down. He’d tied the double knot around her ankle so tight it had rubbed her ankle raw. Her limbs were weak. She barely had the strength to grasp the first knot. She wanted to live. Wanted to see… Her memory would not fill in the blanks, but she was certain there were people out there who loved her.

Tugging as hard as she could, Catherine worked on the first knot with her fettered hands. No matter how hard she tried, she could not free it.

Tears stung her eyes. She scrubbed them away with anger. She would not give in to the helpless feeling. To him. Would not let him win.

When she glanced around the dark room, her attention snagged on something near the stairs. The sliver of light coming from beneath the door above glinted on metal. The knife he’d used. It must have fallen from his pocket. If she could get it…

She flattened herself on the floor and strained, yet the knife was still out of reach. Defeat hovered, urging her to give up and accept her fate, but she could not, because she wanted to live. She stretched her fingers as far as possible. Touched the knife. It slid farther away. The last bit of hope threatened to evaporate before she saw it—what appeared to be a piece of wood splintered from the banister. Close enough to touch.

It took three tries before Catherine reached it. Holding it tightly, she thrust the splinter at the knife. After several attempts she was able to maneuver it close enough to grasp. The mere act depleted her waning energy.

Clutching the knife awkwardly, she used her teeth to open the blade, then finally started sawing at the zip tie on her wrists. The knife slipped from her hand and she had to start again.

Stuffing frustration down deep, Catherine kept her attention on cutting the zip tie. After several more tries, it snapped free. The rope around her ankle proved more difficult.

The man’s angry voice filtered down from upstairs. “It’s my dog and my property. If you don’t like its barking, then perhaps you should move.” Something about his voice was familiar, but there was no time to consider how she might know him. She had to get away.

She sawed harder. The rope frayed. Almost there… A few more rounds with the knife and she was free.

Putting one foot in front of the other became an insurmountable effort. She crawled up the steps to the landing. Out of the dark recesses of her mind, the memory of the woman’s scream the night before came back to her. Was it real? She’d been blindfolded at the time. In and out of consciousness most of the day. There’d been no other indication someone else was here with her, so chances were it was just a hallucination. Still, Catherine couldn’t leave without knowing for certain. Clutching the banister, she pulled herself up and struggled back down the steps. Without turning on the light, she searched the shadows of the room. Nothing. Had she been wrong?

In another part of the house, he was still arguing on the phone. Catherine made it back up to the basement door. Eased it open. A cluttered and grimy kitchen faced her. Stale food odors clung to the walls.

The man’s voice came from her left, and the backdoor was straight in front of her. Just a few steps. Drawing in a breath, Catherine gathered her courage and slipped out of the basement prison, listening carefully. More angry words.

Moving to the door, she slid the lock free as quietly as possible. It protested with a squeak. The man stopped arguing. He’d heard.

With her heart in her throat, she ran, her bare feet sinking into the deep snow outside. Numbness set in quickly.

Close by, something charged her, growling and barking. The dog. The gate appeared up ahead. She had to reach it before the beast took her down.

Catherine fumbled with the latch, her fingers trembling. The animal leaped through the air, teeth bared and inches from her face. She could feel its hot breath on her cheek as it reached the end of its chain and fell backward with a yelp.

Finally, she unlocked the gate. Free of the yard, she raced through the darkness. Dressed only in grimy jeans and a T-shirt, she shivered as the cold wind sliced through her weakened body and threatened to knock her down.

Pitch blackness stretched beyond the lights of the house, shrouding what appeared to be a pasture. Behind her, a door crashed open. He was coming! Unable to draw enough air into her body, she fought panic and hopelessness as she stumbled across the uneven field.

Thundering footsteps gained on her. Tears filled her eyes and spilled down her bruised face. She would not give up. Could not go back to that prison.

His heavy breathing warned that he was close.

“Gott, please help me.” Catherine wasn’t sure if she’d said the words aloud, but she suddenly ran faster, the white silk scarf he’d knotted around her neck flapping behind her. The burst of energy could only have come from above.

The cold burned her lungs. One big hand snatched her from behind. Another clamped over her mouth, stifling her scream. She fought him with all her waning strength, kicking out and clawing at the mask on his face, but it was useless. Something was jabbed into her neck. She wrestled to free herself, but soon the world blurred. Darkness closed in around her. Her last thought was that he’d won. He’d won.

A rocking motion woke her. How long had she been unconscious and entombed in this tiny space? She felt around, touching metal above and beside her, and what felt like carpet beneath her. A car trunk. The jostling continued for a while before the vehicle came to a halt. His familiar footsteps approached. He’d taken her from her prison. Why? The only explanation…he was planning to kill her.

No matter what, she would not die without putting up a fight.

The trunk swung open, but she was ready for him, her feet in position. With all her strength, she kicked him in his midsection. He slumped over and Catherine clambered out of the car and ran.

Up ahead, the noise of rushing water captured her attention. She ran toward the sound, and a bridge came into view, with lights beyond it. If she could make it to them someone would help her.

She stepped onto the bridge and almost slipped. It was covered in ice and snow, forcing her to slow down. She glanced over her shoulder. He was there, but he didn’t appear to be in a hurry. In his hand, he carried something. Why wasn’t he coming for her?

Slipping and sliding, Catherine kept moving. When she was halfway across the bridge, a bang split the night, louder than her ragged breathing. Pain seared through her body and shoved her forward. She lost her footing. Slipped. The momentum of the bullet piercing her shoulder was too much.

The railing gave way beneath her weight, and Catherine screamed as she plunged through the air. Her hands grasped for something to hold on to, but there was nothing. Unable to blink, she watched as the raging water came up fast. Seconds ticked by while her heart exploded with fear.

She hit the river hard, the cold sucking the breath from her lungs. Catherine was sinking and she didn’t know how to swim. Frozen tears clung to her cheeks. Up above, he leaned over the bridge. Watched her struggle.

Her face slipped beneath the water’s surface. Her body grew limp. She was dying. He’d won. She’d fought so hard to live, but it wasn’t enough.

“I beg your pardon?” FBI Profiler Sutter Brenneman couldn’t believe he’d heard Sheriff Walker Collins correctly. The sheriff stood in the doorway of the conference room where Sutter, his partner, and two agents from the Montana Division of Criminal Investigation had been working around the clock, poring through the information they were able to obtain from the latest victims. Which amounted to little.

So far, six young women had died at the hands of a killer whose identity remained as elusive as his motives. Yet one thing was without question. A serial killer was on the loose in Montana, and they needed to figure out what motivated him to commit these murders before he could take another innocent woman. And the clock was ticking.

Sutter rubbed his eyelids. He wasn’t sure if his sleep-deprived brain had created the possibility of their first real break.

“I said you need to head to Eagle’s Nest Memorial Hospital right away. A young woman was just brought in. Two Amish boys from the West Kootenai community pulled her from Silver Creek a few hours ago and carried her to the hospital. She’s been shot. The doctor is in with her now. We don’t know anything more about the extent of her injuries.”

Sutter scraped back his chair. The expression on the sheriff’s face confirmed the news was big. “You think…?” He couldn’t finish.

“Yeah, I do. In fact, I’m sure of it. We have the first living victim of the Dead of Night Killer.”

The sheriff’s words sank in while Sutter swallowed his disgust at the name the media had given the perp, who took each of his victims during the dead of night.

“How can you be so sure?” Sutter asked while his partner, James Pennington, grabbed his jacket and started for the door.

“Because she had a white silk scarf tied around her neck. Like the other victims. That information has never been released to the media.”

“Go,” Garrett Miles, one of the DCI agents, told him. “Trevor and I will head to the crime scene to see if we can find anything useful there.”

Sutter shoved his arms into his coat and followed his partner without a word.

“Ask for Dr. Rolland. He’s the one treating her. The two Amish boys are at the hospital. I’ll head to Silver Creek with Trevor and Garrett, and start canvassing,” the sheriff called after him.

Sutter barely heard him, his mind was on what lay ahead. He and James practically ran from the station. His partner clicked the key fob to their Bureau-issued black Suburban and then slid behind the wheel, while Sutter scrambled into the passenger seat.

They had a live victim. He couldn’t believe they’d caught such a break. Up until now, the only things tying the victims to each other were the method of death—a single gunshot wound to the chest—and the white silk scarf tied around each victim’s neck. Plus the note, “You made me do this.” The profiler in him was still trying to unravel the meaning behind that.

James backed out of the parking space, shoved the SUV into Drive and floored the gas pedal, dodging the light evening traffic until the blue hospital sign came into view. After turning, he drove the short distance to the lot and whipped into the nearest vacant spot.

They exited at the same time, as if choreographed. Inside the building, Sutter advanced to the receptionist’s desk, showed his badge and told her who they wished to speak with.

The young woman’s troubled gaze swept from one to the other before she picked up the phone and spoke briefly.

“Dr. Rolland will be down in a minute,” she assured them with a nervous smile. No doubt the news of the killer, along with the FBI’s presence in Eagle’s Nest, had the citizens on edge.

Sutter thanked her and stepped away, unable to sit. Too much at stake. He wanted to speak to their victim quickly. Find out what she could tell them about the Dead of Night Killer.

The elevator dinged. Both Sutter and James whirled at the sound. The doors slid open, and a tall, middle-aged man in a white coat stepped out and glanced around. Spotting them, he headed their way as Sutter suppressed a smile. He and James obviously fit the part of government agents.

“Dr. Rolland?” Sutter asked, once the man reached them.

He nodded. “Yes, that’s correct.”

“Special Agents Brenneman and Pennington. We’re here about the gunshot victim who was brought in earlier.”

“Come with me. We can talk on the way.” The doctor headed for the elevator. Sutter and James scrambled to keep up.

The doors opened, and all three men stepped inside the elevator.

“The two Amish boys who took her to the hospital probably saved her life.” Dr. Rolland spared them a look. “They were night fishing when she fell into the creek. I assumed you’d want to speak with them, as well, so I asked them to stay.” He punched the third-floor button. “We removed a bullet from her left shoulder. A few inches lower and it would be a different story. She’s awake now. All she’s been able to tell us is her first name. Catherine. She doesn’t remember her last, or any family members to contact.” The doctor spotted Sutter’s shock and added, “As I said, she’s suffered a lot and she took quite a blow to her head. I believe Catherine is suffering from a form of temporary amnesia.”

The reality of those words washed over him. This was the last thing Sutter wanted to hear. Their victim couldn’t recall parts of what happened to her. Without her help, they had nothing.

The silence in the elevator car was palpable. Sutter glanced at his phone. Almost midnight. He thought about all the questions he should be asking. “You have the bullet? We’ll need it for evidence.”

The doors slid open and the doctor stepped out. “Yes, we preserved it, along with the scarf she had around her neck.”

“Good.” All Sutter could think about were the horrific things the victim must have gone through. And the realization that she would have to relive it all telling him. Moving beyond something of this magnitude wouldn’t be easy.

Two young boys dressed in Amish clothing sat in the waiting area. Both appeared to be in their early teens. The sight of their traditional garb sent Sutter’s heart back in time. At one point, this could have been him. Was him.

“I’ll take the kids,” James said.

“Okay. Call Sheriff Collins. I need a deputy outside Catherine’s room in case this guy tries to finish the job.”

James nodded and headed to the boys to introduce himself.

The doctor stopped outside one of the rooms and faced Sutter. “I know you have questions, and it’s important to solve this case quickly, but she’s weak and frightened. Catherine’s suffered a lot of bad things at this creep’s hands. Keep that in mind.”

Not waiting for an answer, the doctor pushed the door open. A second ticked by before Sutter followed.

A nurse who had been seated beside the patient rose.

“Will you give us a minute, Beverly?” Dr. Rolland asked. The nurse squeezed Catherine’s hand and left without a word.

His first reaction when he stepped into the room was that she appeared so small and fragile against the pillows. Bruises covered much of her face and arms, along with cut marks. Sutter stuffed down his anger at the sight of them. The killer’s weapon of choice for torture had proved to be the knife. For murder, he preferred a gunshot at close range. It probably gave him a thrill to watch his victim’s life slip away before his eyes.

Catherine’s raven hair appeared matted with blood. A white gauze bandage covered part of her head, and the dressing on the gunshot wound in her shoulder peeked out from under her hospital gown. According to Dr. Rolland, she was fortunate to be alive.

Six other women had died in unspeakable ways at the hands of this monster. When he grew tired of them, he shot them, then disposed of the bodies somewhere he knew they’d be found quickly. He left his calling cards on each victim’s body: the white silk scarf and the note. Glued on red paper, the letters were cut out from what they believed to be a magazine. The abuse, along with the cause of death, showed the killer’s rage with someone. The only question was who?

With very few leads, the pressure to find the killer before he struck again increased each day.

“Catherine, this is Special Agent Sutter Brenneman. He’s with the FBI. If you’re feeling up to it, he’d like to ask you some questions.” Dr. Rolland turned to Sutter. “She’s been through a lot and needs to rest. Don’t tire her out too much. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll bring you the evidence.” With a smile for his patient, the doctor left Sutter to his questions.

Catherine stared up at him with huge, frightened eyes so piercingly blue he found it hard to look away. Pale as the sheet she clutched, her face reflected the extent of what she’d suffered. Anger mingled with protective instincts rose inside Sutter. An instant connection he couldn’t begin to explain tugged him toward her like a magnetic force.

Pulling his gaze away, he dragged over a chair. The noise immediately put Catherine on edge and she shrank back.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,” he apologized, regretting his actions. She didn’t trust him. Probably didn’t trust anyone. As much as Sutter needed to take her statement down, he’d seen her fear and hated the questions he must ask.

“How are you feeling?” he began, hoping to put her at ease.

She lifted one shoulder. “I am alive, Agent Brenneman, so I’m feeling blessed.”

He smiled at her ability to hold on to that outlook. She’d almost died at the hands of a monster, and yet she still possessed the power to see the good.

“Please, call me Sutter,” he said.

Her forehead wrinkled, almost as if she were trying to pull out something from her memory and couldn’t. She dropped her attention to her hands. He regretted that his presence made her nervous.

Sutter opened his notepad. “I know this is hard for you, Catherine. We’ll take it slow. If you need a break, let me know. I want you to answer each question the best you can. Okay?” he asked gently.

Again she nodded, but her body grew tense.

“First, Dr. Rolland tells me you weren’t able to remember your last name?”

Once more, her frightened eyes locked onto his. A breath burst from her body while dozens of questions flew through his head.

“That’s right,” she said in a whisper.

Dread crawled into the pit of Sutter’s stomach.

“Can you tell me where you live?”

A deep frown marred the skin between her brows as she shook her head. Sutter did his best not to show the alarm growing inside him.

“The doctor mentioned he believed you’re suffering from temporary amnesia.” He pointed to the bandage. “I’m sure in time your memories will return. In the meantime, we’ll take a photo of you and see if we can identify you from it.”

She seemed to grow more uncomfortable at the prospect of having her photo taken. Did she have a record? While his cop instinct didn’t believe it, they’d have to check it out. All the other victims had lived in Eagle’s Nest. Some went to school. Others worked. None had a criminal record.

Catherine pleated the sheet nervously while Sutter’s sinking feeling grew. She was all they had to find a serial killer. Would her memories return in time to save another victim?

“I know this is hard, but I need you to try to remember the man who took you. What did he look like? Where did he keep you hostage?”

Her lips trembled as she explained about the frightening basement and the monster who hid behind a mask she’d caught only a glimpse of after removing her blindfold. The killer had made sure she couldn’t identify him.

“He enjoyed my pain. When I screamed or showed fear, he laughed.”

Sutter stuffed down his rage at anyone treating her so cruelly. He had to stay focused. Couldn’t let emotions take control. They needed to catch this villain before he harmed anyone else.

“What can you tell me about his build? Was he tall? Short?” He kept his attention on her expressive face and wondered if she had any idea how strong she truly was to have escaped the Dead of Night Killer.

“Tall. At least that was my impression. He was taller than me and I am pretty tall. But he wasn’t heavy or thin.” She shrugged. “I’d say somewhere in between.”

Sutter leaned forward and smiled. “You’re doing great. Do you need a break?” he asked. He didn’t want to push her too hard.

She shook her head. “I just want to get through this.”

He understood the wish. After interviewing many victims throughout his career, he knew reliving the pain they’d suffered was never an easy thing.

“Alright. You said his face was hidden, but his eyes were dark. Do you remember anything else about him?”

Catherine fisted her hands at her sides and pulled in a breath. Her terror appeared etched on her face, all but guaranteeing she would never be the same again, and his heart broke for her. Like the other victims, she hadn’t asked to be a player in a psychopath’s macabre game.

“I remember that he smelled like smoke.”

Sutter stopped writing. “You mean like cigarette smoke?”

“No, more like wood smoke.” She stopped for a breath. “And there was a dog. It started barking whenever the man returned…” She didn’t finish. Didn’t need to. He understood that’s when the torture would begin.

“Do you recall how many days you were in the basement?”

Placing a hand against her temple, Catherine closed her eyes for a moment. “I think one, but it’s all a blur. I was in and out of consciousness.”

If she’d been gone for more than a day, why hadn’t someone reported her missing by now?

Sutter jotted down her answer. “What happened earlier? How did you manage to escape?”

She straightened her back. “I would not be alive now if it weren’t for Divine intervention,” she said with conviction, and stared into space as she started recounting the events. Sutter admired her faith. At one time, his had been as strong.

“I heard him pulling into the garage. He came down to the basement and I knew what was coming.” She shuddered visibly.

Sutter listening intently as she described how she’d tried to free the rope from her ankle but wasn’t able to. Finding the knife had saved her.

Catherine stopped to gather breath.

“I know this is difficult, but you’re doing great,” he assured her. “How long do you think you were in the car?”

Her forehead wrinkled. “I’m not sure. I woke up before he stopped. When he opened the trunk, I kicked him as hard as I could and ran.”

And then the killer had shot her. She’d almost died.

Sutter closed the pad. “Do you know where you were when he took you?”

Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. “I don’t remember anything from before I woke up in that basement…” Her voice broke into a sob.

In an instant, Sutter’s sinking feeling morphed into distress. He couldn’t imagine what she was going through, not knowing who she was.

“Dr. Rolland believes your loss of memory is due to the blow to the head and will clear up in time.” Sutter hoped to sound convincing, but he was really worried. For her. For the next victim. “Why don’t I get the doctor for you.” He stepped out into the hall to search for the doctor and spotted him coming his way.

“Is Catherine okay?” Dr. Rolland asked, correctly reading Sutter’s reaction.

“She’s pretty upset about her loss of memory.”

“That’s understandable. Let me examine Catherine further and then I’ll speak with you again.” With a pat on Sutter’s shoulder, he went inside.

Running a hand across his eyes in frustration, Sutter paced the hallway in front of her door.

None of the other victims had been struck in the head. Why Catherine? Had she fought back?

When the doctor came back out a short time later, Sutter hurried over to him. “Is she okay?” he asked.

Dr. Rolland nodded. “I believe so. In time, with rest and a safe environment, Catherine’s memories will return. She was pretty keyed up, so I gave her something to help her sleep. I’ll check back in a little while. In the meantime, I’m sure she’d appreciate a friendly face when she wakes.” He smiled before heading down the hall.

Sutter slipped back inside Catherine’s room. Her eyes were closed. Though she appeared at peace, he understood how difficult the road ahead would be for her.

He snapped a photo of her and sent it to Sheriff Collins to have him show it around the area. Hopefully, someone would recognize Catherine soon.

Too restless to sit, Sutter moved to the window and stared out as a perfect spring morning dawned. The mountains in the distance drew him in. He’d worked in lots of different locations, but here in the wild Montana countryside, he felt God’s presence. It made him wish he didn’t have doubts. And anger.

The things Catherine had said rattled around in his head. She believed God had brought her out of the Dead of Night Killer’s clutches. The mention of God suggested she was religious. He’d have Sheriff Collins ask around at the local churches. Maybe someone would remember her there.

A whisper of a sound came from the woman in the bed. Who was she? How had the villain managed to take her? And more importantly, why hadn’t someone reported her missing by now?

Dr. Rolland had said she came in dressed in jeans and a tattered white T-shirt, her feet bare. The doctor believed she’d been in good health before her capture.

Each minute that passed without them being able to identify the killer reminded Sutter that the Dead of Night Killer was out there somewhere, probably trolling for his next victim.

Outside the room, an unusual amount of activity seemed to be taking place. A sense of unease sped up Sutter’s spine. He opened the door and glanced around. The nurses’ station appeared to be abandoned, while a crowd of medical personnel had gathered near one of the rooms down the hall.

He craned his neck to see what was happening, and fear took control when he spotted what was causing the commotion. Smoke billowed from inside the room. A fire. In his heart, he didn’t believe it was an accident.

A sound sent him whirling, in time to find a man in green scrubs and a medical mask nearly on top of him. Something jabbed into his neck. He reached for it and yanked it out. A syringe. Trying to process what was taking place, Sutter grabbed for the man. The world swam before his eyes and his legs buckled.

He was vaguely aware of being shoved into the room, then tossed across it, hitting the floor hard. Catherine. He needed to protect her, but he couldn’t get his body to cooperate. Sutter tried to stand. Fell back, his legs jelly. Soon, his thoughts began to fade.

The last coherent one was that the killer had tracked her to the hospital, determined to finish the job. Sutter had promised to protect her and was now powerless to do so.

TWO

Catherine’s eyes flew open. Panicked, she scanned the room. Something woke her, but she wasn’t sure what. Sunlight streamed in. The hospital… She was in the hospital. Next to the window, something lay crumpled on the floor. A man. She recognized him. It was the FBI agent she’d spoken to earlier. He wasn’t moving.

Her heartbeat accelerated. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement nearby. Someone else was in the room. She jerked toward the person just as a pillow was shoved over her face, cutting off her oxygen.

He’d found her again.

Catherine tried to scream. No sound came out. Not like this. She wouldn’t die like this. Not without fighting him all the way. With her limbs flailing, she grabbed for her attacker’s arms, frantic to save her life. Scratching and clawing, she fought with all her fading strength.

He snarled in anger and pressed down harder. Her nails raked across his skin. Drew blood. He yanked his arm out of her reach. With all the strength she could muster, Catherine kicked him hard. He yelped before he pressed the pillow down with renewed force.

She could feel the last breaths leaving her body. Then the pressure eased. The sound of equipment being knocked around was followed by thuds and a scuffle. She pulled the pillow off her face.

After coughing and sucking in air, she screamed as loudly as she could, but her voice was nonexistent.

Catherine watched in horror as Sutter struggled with the man who’d attacked her. His face was partially covered by a medical mask and he was dressed in scrubs like a doctor. The man had a gun in his hand. She recognized it. The same one he’d used on her.

“No!” She yelled as forcefully as she could, but it came out as barely a whisper. The man shoved Sutter off him and tried to reach the door. The agent tackled him from behind. Both men hit the floor, momentum sent them sliding. Sutter slugged the man hard several times, but he barely flinched, as if he were indestructible. As the two fought, the attacker swung the gun in his hand. It slammed against Sutter’s temple before the agent had time to react. He collapsed unconscious on the floor.

The masked man heaved himself to his feet and shoved the gun into the waistband of his pants. Then he strode toward her, his rage was as terrifying as ever.

“No, please,” Catherine murmured, and held her arms up in front of her. He yanked them down with one hand while the other circled her neck and choked hard.

Catherine stared into eyes filled with pure evil, and a single tear slipped from her eye to the pillow below. The one thought chasing through her mind was that if she died, they might never be able to catch this man. With darkness closing in, her body urged her to give up. Let it happen. She couldn’t.

The man’s attention suddenly jerked toward the door as if he’d heard something. After one final squeeze, with his teeth bared, he let her go and ran from the room.

Grasping her neck, she drew air into her lungs. Each breath reminded her that he’d almost completed what he’d set out to do.

With her voice gone, she stumbled from the bed and over to Sutter’s side.

“Are you alright?” The words did not exist. Kneeling, she shook him gently. No response. She needed help.

Staggering to her feet and putting one in front of the other took all her concentration. She made it to the door, half expecting the man to appear again and finish the job.

Catherine stepped outside and yelled as loudly as possible. Each cry felt like a knife to her throat, but this time, her voice resonated down the hall to where several medical personnel were gathered.

Dr. Rolland rushed to her aid. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his brows slanted in a worried frown.

She pointed inside. “He needs you.”

A nurse she recognized from earlier along with other emergency personnel came to assist. A man in a deputy’s uniform rushed past her.

Dr. Rolland helped her back into the room. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

But she wasn’t worried about herself. All she could think about was Sutter. He’d risked his life for her. “He’s in good hands,” Dr. Rolland assured her, and helped her back to bed while another doctor assisted Sutter as he slowly came to.

Catherine couldn’t stop shaking. Her abductor had managed to find her in the hospital while she was under the protection of an FBI agent. Would she ever be safe again?

“Easy there, Agent Brenneman. Try not to move. That was some blow you took.” The doctor eased him into the closest chair, then bent to examine the injury.

Sutter winced and pushed his hands away. “I’m okay,” he said, though he didn’t appear so.

“What happened?” the deputy standing close by asked.

“The killer was here. We need to close off the hospital right now.” His gaze shot to the officer as he gave the order. “No one goes in or out of the building until we catch this guy.”

“I’ll take care of it,” the deputy said, and hastily left the room.

Sutter struggled to his feet, despite the doctor’s warning, and came to Catherine’s bedside. “Did he hurt you?” he asked.

She fixed her attention on him alone. Sutter was her safe place. As long as he was there, she could keep it together.

“I’m okay,” she managed to answer, as Sutter sat next to her. Her throat ached from the attack, but she was alive. She couldn’t get what Sutter had said out of her head. The killer. Her attacker had killed before.

The deputy came back. “Building’s on lockdown. Security is checking each floor. I’d like to assist, if it’s okay with you.”

Sutter nodded. “Go. But you’ll need more manpower.” He took out his phone and punched in a number. “Sheriff, I need every available person you have at the hospital now.” He explained what had happened, then listened. “Good. I’ll see you soon.”

Shoving the phone into his pocket, he studied Catherine closely, worry clear on his face.

“We’ll need to find someplace safe for you to stay until we can catch this guy. I promise I won’t let him near you again.” The taut set of his jaw convinced her he would do whatever necessary to keep this promise. Would it be enough?

Her gaze swept over his handsome face. Warm brown eyes filled with so much strength calmed the storm raging inside her.

“What happened in the room with the fire?” Sutter asked Dr. Rolland.

Catherine gasped. “There was a fire?”

“Yes. He used it as a distraction,” Sutter said gently. She couldn’t process the depth of rage this man must possess, to go to such extremes to kill her. Why did he want her dead?

“At the time, we had no idea the fire was deliberately set.” Dr. Rolland nodded toward the nurse standing by Catherine’s bed. “Beverly here spotted smoke coming from the room when she was checking on patients. She called for help. Most of the staff hurried to the area, which I suspect was his intent.”

Sutter nodded. “He wanted to draw people away from your room.”

Gathering enough air into her lungs was hard. This man was cunning. He’d risked countless lives to ensure her silence. What was he afraid of? He’d worn a mask. It had been dark and she didn’t get a good look at the house or the neighborhood. She doubted she could pick it out, much less him. Was it possible she somehow knew him?

A man in a sheriff’s uniform came into the room. Glancing around, he spotted Sutter and came over, while Dr. Rolland gently examined her bruised neck.

“I don’t think he did any irreparable damage, though your throat will be sore for a while. You’re safe now. Try and rest, Catherine. This has been a traumatic experience for you. I’ll check back with you soon. If you need anything before then, let Beverly know.” With another kind smile he and the nurse both left her to rest.

Yet peaceful sleep was an impossible wish. Each time she tried, the man’s eyes haunted her, along with the pain he’d inflicted on her and the pleasure he’d seemed to gain from watching her suffer. She didn’t understand how a human could enjoy hurting someone in such a sickening way. And there were other victims. She hadn’t had time to process it before now, but why else would the FBI be called in to investigate her case, unless she wasn’t the first woman he’d hurt? The thought was chilling.

He knew she was alive, and he wouldn’t stop until she was dead.

“There’s no sign of him,” Sherriff Collins said in a quiet voice. “I’m guessing he escaped before the hospital went into lockdown. My people are interviewing the staff to see if someone might have seen him. And we’re canvassing the surrounding area, as well. There’s video surveillance at all entrances. I’ll have my deputy go through them. Hopefully, we can pick him up on one of the cameras.”

Though disappointed, Sutter wasn’t surprised. He glanced over to where Catherine stared out the window, shoulders slumped. Defeated.

“He wore a medical mask and scrubs to help him blend in, and he had a gun. He created a fire in one of the rooms to draw the staff away from Catherine. This guy is smart. We can’t underestimate him.”

Sheriff Collins nodded. “Agreed. We’re interviewing the people working on this floor to see if they recall anything unusual happening other than the fire.”

Sutter didn’t believe they would. The Dead of Night Killer was good at blending in. “He stuck a syringe in my neck. It must have contained something to knock me out because I went down. When I came to, he was trying to suffocate Catherine with a pillow. I managed to pull him off. We struggled. He’s strong and I was groggy from the medicine.” He’d had the killer in his grasp and couldn’t subdue him. Would another innocent woman pay for his failings? “Anyway, he clocked me with the gun and then got away.”

Sheriff Collins pinned him with a look. The wisdom this gentle but tough man presented throughout this ordeal was something Sutter admired. “Don’t beat yourself up. This guy had nothing to lose and you’d been dosed. Sooner or later, he will slip up and we’ll nail him.”

Sutter wanted to believe him, but how many other women would have to die before that happened? “I know, but we sure could use a break. I hate to think of Catherine’s family missing her and worried.”

“I do, as well,” the sheriff said. “Megan’s been canvassing the town with Catherine’s photo, but so far, no one’s recognized her.”

Sutter remembered her reference to God. “Have her ask around the churches in town.” He explained what Catherine had said.

“I’ll do it now,” the sheriff replied, and took out his phone.

Sutter went over to Catherine’s bedside. Every little move he made sent shards of pain through his head. Whatever drug the killer had used to knock him out was leaving him groggy.

“How are you feeling?” he asked Catherine, his concern for her greater than his own pain.

Her blue eyes appeared huge. Haunted. “I just want this to be over.”

“I know you do. We’re doing everything in our power to find this guy.” Yet so far it hadn’t been enough.

“But he got away, didn’t he?” she asked, holding Sutter’s gaze.

He hated telling her the truth, but he had to. “Yes, I’m sorry, he did.”

“He won’t stop coming after me, will he? He can’t afford to let me live,” Catherine said, and shivered at the thought.

Sutter wished he could think of something to ease her fears, but this killer was ruthless and resourceful. He didn’t like the idea of keeping Catherine at the hospital any longer than necessary.

When the sheriff ended his call and came over, Sutter asked him about moving Catherine.

“Until we catch this guy, we need a place he won’t think to look for her. Any suggestions?”

Sheriff Collins never wavered. “I may know a place. I’ll have to clear it first, but I think she’ll be as safe there as anywhere.”

“Where are you talking about?” Sutter asked.

“The West Kootenai Amish community nearby.” The sheriff waited for his response.

That was the last place Sutter expected the sheriff to recommend. “You think that’s wise?” he asked. “The Amish are a private, peaceful people.” Bringing a killer’s target into their quiet environment would not be condoned by the bishop.

“I don’t see that we have many options. We need Catherine safe and I know the bishop pretty well from some dealings in the past. I’ll speak with him and clear it,” Sheriff Collins said. “And there’s another reason why I suggested the community. My former deputy joined the Amish faith several years back. His name is Noah Warren. He and his wife and daughter live on the outskirts of the West Kootenai community.” The sheriff glanced at Catherine. “If I needed a safe place to disappear, it’s where I would choose to go.”

Hearing a former deputy had joined the Amish community was something Sutter was not prepared for. Leaving the modern world behind for a simpler way of life was something Sutter found himself longing for with each new case that came his way. He looked forward to meeting Noah Warren.

Despite Sheriff Collins’s assurances, Catherine appeared worried.

“I’ll be right there with you at all times,” Sutter told her. “I’m not letting you out of my sight for a minute until I know for certain we have this guy in custody.”

She managed the tiniest of nods. The hope in her eyes scared him. She was counting on him to save her. What if he couldn’t?

“I’ll see if I can arrange it,” Sheriff Collins said, before facing Catherine. “I know this has been difficult for you, but you’re in good hands with Sutter. You should try and get some rest.”

“Thank you,” she murmured. The sheriff squeezed her arm, then headed for the door, reminding Sutter of some Old West law officer.

The door swung open and Dr. Rolland entered, then held it wide for the sheriff. With a nod to him, Sheriff Collins left the room.

“You should let me have a look at that.” The doctor stopped next to Sutter and pointed to his temple.

“Thanks, but I’m fine.” Sutter dismissed the doctor’s concerns. All he could think about was protecting Catherine. So far, he’d failed miserably.

“How are you feeling?” Dr. Rolland asked her.

“I am…” She shrugged without finishing.

Dr. Rolland checked her vitals before saying, “Your shoulder is healing quite well. I’ll check back with you in a little while.”

He had started to leave when Sutter remembered he needed to find out if Catherine was strong enough to move.

“Hang on a second,” he said, and Dr. Rolland swung toward him, his brows raised.

“In your medical opinion, is Catherine strong enough to leave the hospital today? After what happened here, I don’t think it’s safe for her to stay.”

Sutter could see the question was a difficult one for the doctor. “She’s been through a lot, Agent Brenneman,” he finally said. “She’s suffered an ugly head injury as well as a gunshot wound. But Catherine is strong.” He sought to reassure his patient. “You will be okay. I’ll give you supplies to change the dressings and have a nurse show you how and when to change the dressings.” He focused on Sutter. “I just ask that you keep a careful eye on her injuries. If something changes, you must bring her in immediately.”

Relieved, Sutter smiled. “I will. Thank you, Dr. Rolland.”

“Of course.” After the doctor left, Sutter settled into the chair next to her bed and glanced out the window. The crystal blue skies made it impossible to believe the temperature hovered around freezing this morning.

With a deep sigh, Catherine turned to face him, and he sought something to say to bring her comfort. Nothing came to mind.

“Why is he doing this?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper. The red marks around her neck screamed that the killer’s latest attack had failed by seconds.

Sutter wished to spare her the truth, but she needed to know what they were up against. “He’s sick. Unstable.”

Her blue eyes held him captive. “There were others,” she said, the truth hanging between them. “He has killed before.”

Sutter managed a nod.

“How many?”

Drawing in a breath, he decided to be honest with her. “Six, as far as we know. All young women from around Eagle’s Nest.” All of them knew each other, but then again, most people were acquainted in this tight-knit community.

Shock rippled from her expressive eyes to her open mouth. “I can’t believe it. Why would he harm so many women?”

“Serial killers’ brains are wired differently. They are sociopaths who kill for physiological gratification. There’s no set reason why. Until we capture him, we can only work on the assumption he has a motive for targeting young, dark-haired women around your age.”

“Why did he come here and risk being captured?” she asked, but the fear in her eyes assured him she knew the answer.

“I believe you saw his face at some point or can identify him somehow. He can’t let you live.”

The reality of those words sank in and she inadvertently touched her throat. “But I don’t remember him,” she insisted. “The only times I saw him he wore a mask.”

Sutter leaned forward. “There’s something you know about him that you can’t remember yet. Whatever it is, it will help us identify him. Until your memories return, we have to keep you safe.”

“But how?” she asked and swallowed visibly. “He found me here. What’s to stop him from finding me anywhere?”

The hopelessness in her eyes brought out Sutter’s protective instincts. “I promised I wouldn’t let him near you again and I meant it. You’re safe, Catherine. You’re safe.”

She shoved her hair behind her ears. The look on her face assured him she did not believe him, but that was okay. He’d prove it to her and himself. He’d protect her, no matter what the cost was, because there was something about Catherine that made him want to see her story through to the end. Find out who she was. For her. For him.

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